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taxonomites2013-04-07 03:13 am
skinandbone) wrote in taxonomites2013-04-07 03:13 am
Entry tags:
[Location: The Market] Stalling out
This is completely terrifying.
Somewhere at the outskirt of the Market, Metody has rented a stall with the last of her money and some very fast talking. She sits at the front of it, giving the world a tense, edgy smile.
She is not wearing her environmental suit, and that is completely terrifying. Appearances matter and no one looks friendly in a black space suit, and so it is stashed under the tablecloth. In it's place, Metody is wearing her impression of business dress: Electric pink jeans, a green blouse, a blue net scarf and a blazingly purple jacket. She's done something complicated with a pink ribbon to one arm, and there's a band of carved ivory flowers holding back her hair, and okay, it's maybe not the most staid of outfits, but the jacket means it's professional, right? And so does the scarf.
Her wares are displayed as attractively as she could manage: on one side, delicate carvings of bone - little boxes with geometrical or botanical themes, long strands of interlocking beads, flowers with petals so thin that light shines through them, intricate ivory hair ornaments. On the other side is meat of the operation, ha ha: purplish venison steaks and what looks at first glance to be chicken thighs and cutlets, but is actually rabbit. She's even got a(n ivory) plate of samples with frilly toothpicks sticking out of them, and neatly hand printed recipe cards.
There is paper and string to package up the meat, and little boxes for the jewelry and carvings, and if no one buys anything, she is facing a long walk home followed by another meal of yet more freaking venison and rabbit.
She might just try eating grass and rocks instead. Or she'll try staring at the crowd and willing them into purchasing.
C'mon. C'mooooooooon.
Somewhere at the outskirt of the Market, Metody has rented a stall with the last of her money and some very fast talking. She sits at the front of it, giving the world a tense, edgy smile.
She is not wearing her environmental suit, and that is completely terrifying. Appearances matter and no one looks friendly in a black space suit, and so it is stashed under the tablecloth. In it's place, Metody is wearing her impression of business dress: Electric pink jeans, a green blouse, a blue net scarf and a blazingly purple jacket. She's done something complicated with a pink ribbon to one arm, and there's a band of carved ivory flowers holding back her hair, and okay, it's maybe not the most staid of outfits, but the jacket means it's professional, right? And so does the scarf.
Her wares are displayed as attractively as she could manage: on one side, delicate carvings of bone - little boxes with geometrical or botanical themes, long strands of interlocking beads, flowers with petals so thin that light shines through them, intricate ivory hair ornaments. On the other side is meat of the operation, ha ha: purplish venison steaks and what looks at first glance to be chicken thighs and cutlets, but is actually rabbit. She's even got a(n ivory) plate of samples with frilly toothpicks sticking out of them, and neatly hand printed recipe cards.
There is paper and string to package up the meat, and little boxes for the jewelry and carvings, and if no one buys anything, she is facing a long walk home followed by another meal of yet more freaking venison and rabbit.
She might just try eating grass and rocks instead. Or she'll try staring at the crowd and willing them into purchasing.
C'mon. C'mooooooooon.
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"I think she does a lot more than just bring you bones, really, pet."
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"- I mean - okay, a little - a little - " There is no dang way she's going to use the word 'creepy.' " - unique looking. But still, very sweet."
Metody's reaction to Spike's unsubtle hint is a touch of confusion. "I take her hunting sometimes....?"
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"Oh, sure, I think, though, she watches and protects too, yeah?"
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Ah. Perhaps not, then. She looks utterly perplexed.
"...yes? Thats what dogs do...?"
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Spike chuckles softly, at that, picking up another pieces of bone carving and looking at it with gloved hands. For a moment, the skin of his wrist is visible and he stiffens as there is briefly a hissing sound and small bit of smoke.
"Dogs tend not to change their shape like that."
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Metody's eyes widen a bit. Did she just really see that?
"She's not a dog, she's a Lost Dog. They're different creatures, even if Lost
Dogs are made of dogs."
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"I'm selling fresh meat and some things I carved?"
"I'm sorry - I really don't understand what - that's really all I'm doing here."
That thing with his wrist and his dead seeming bones, and his hints about being hurt by holy objects? Creepy. But not as creepy as his strange conversation.
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Spike shakes his head, seeing the confused look and determining that either Metody is totally honest in being confused or one of the best liars he's ever seen.
"I didn't mean to upset. You have pretty things here."
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"She's a Lost Dog - thats what you get when a dog loses it's master and hasn't seen the body, or just doesn't understand that the world can be without the most important person. It's too loyal to die. So it lives on, waiting for someone who can't come back, and dries up, and is joined by other dogs and cats and sometimes other animals who've lost their masters too."
"Thats why she's so friendly and eager to please - her heart needs a master. Even if it isn't there anymore."
She looks down at the headband in her hands. "Thanks."
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A pause.
"Like a beehive?"